Let’s scatter poppy seeds — and water them so they live — in memory of those in the military who died or were wounded in body, soul or mind defending America. What say you? This poem says it best:
The Great War 1914-1918
In Flanders Fields
Poppy photographed on the First World War battlefield of the Somme near the Thiepval Memorial to the Missing.
by John McCrae, May 1915
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields. crosses
- Firenze Sage: Cop trained by TSA [tickets father who saved son]
- Firenze Sage: privacy of children no more?